Live Long and Prosper, Doctor Watson
by Hades Lord of the Dead
Summary: When Spock is sent through time to Victorian London, he must turn to a grieving Doctor Watson for help finding his way back to the Enterprise and his own time period.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

He couldn't see. Something warm dripped into his eyes, and everything was dark here.

_Where?_

Nausea rose in his stomach and he fought to push it down.

_I am in control._

He tried to stand up and was immensely confused when he found himself on the ground. He winced, not at any of the aches and pains he felt, but at the loud crash which had accompanied a sudden new pain at the back of his head. He began to shiver - it was very cold.

Suddenly there were footsteps. Stealthy, inaudible to all but his superior hearing. A creak as something was opened and then light washed over him, not nearly bright enough to incite the use of his inner eyelid.

A figure stood there, a silhouette, holding something in a hand that trembled almost in time to Spock's shivering body.

"Who are you?" The voice was undeniably male, and far steadier than the owner's hand. "How did you get in here?"

With immense difficulty Spock hauled himself into a sitting position, stomach turning somersaults, a fact which he could not deny he felt some irritation at, given that such a feat was both illogical and impossible.

"Don't move!"

Again Spock found himself wincing at the volume. His head was pounding, and he could not understand how his senses could feel both heightened and muffled all at once.

"Who are you?" the voice asked again when Spock showed no further sign of movement.

His voice was a dry rasp when he answered.

"Spock."

"_Spock?"_

_His throat ached, but he did not have time to try and block out the was something... something he must do... "I- I have the time device. One to... beam up."_

"_Spock, the field - we can't-"_

Of course... _Spock chided himself for having forgotten. "My apologies Captain I fear my thoughts are- are somewhat-"_

_No. Apologies were illogical. Wasting time on apologies was illogical - there was something he must do. But what..?_

"_Mr Spock!" He vaguely realised the Captain had been growing louder and his voice was now... worried? Panicked? Human emotions were so easily interchangeable... "SPOCK!"_

"_Still... still here, Captain. The- the device - I have the time device-"_

"_I know Spock," the Captain's voice was oddly soothing and Spock could not help but wonder why... "Bones, what's wrong with him?"_

"_How the heck do you expect me to know Jim!" Spock very nearly allowed himself a smile at McCoy's abrasive reply. "I'm a Doctor not a psychic! Get him where I can see him and then I'll tell you. All I can tell from these readings is his blood pressure's raised and he's colder than normal."_

"_Captain," Spock said over Kirk's answering sigh. "The- the F'lacha't'Nel - they placed some sort of- of tracking mechanism on the time device. They are coming."_

"_Can you get above ground Spock?" Kirk asked. "So we can transport-"_

"_I do not... think so, Captain." Spock answered. _

"_Giotto I want a security team on the planet's surface _now, _get to the-"_

"Captain." _Spock interrupted, wincing at the raised volume, "I estimate 2- 2 point..." he faltered, the numbers of the calculation in his head already lost. "Roughly 2 minutes until they are on me Captain. Not enough time."_

Time... _Spock looked down to the machine, clutched in his bloody hand, not listening to the Captain and other COs having a rapid-fire discussion on what to do._

"_I will use the time device."_

_He said it more to himself than anyone, so that the thought would not trail away, as so many others had in the past few minutes. But, of course, the Captain heard him._

"_WHAT?!"_

_Spock began to prepare it, his fingers irritatingly sluggish and the gash on his forehead dripping emerald into his eyes, obscuring his vision. He strove to remember the blueprints he had examined earlier, precisely which buttons he should press..._

"_Mr Spock!" Chief Engineer Scott's voice, though a little quieter than the Captain's, was no less emotional. "That technology's never been tested before - who knows if it'll work, what'll happen to ye if it doesn't!"_

_The small machine sparked into life - quite literally, as the burns on Spock's hands would now testify. He ignored this however. _

_Concentration. Focus. He needed them both if this were to work, but his mind was so muddled he was unsure if he would manage it... The babbling voices from his communicator were not helping matters._

"_Captain, the F'lacha't'Nel must not use this device - that was our mission," Spock said, all too aware of the increasing noises of pursuit. Of the enormity of what he was about to do. "Good- goodbye."_

"_Mister Spock ye dinnae have to-"_

"_Spock so help me if you use that thing I'm gonna hypo you into the middle of-" _

"_Spock don't do it! That's an order Spock! Do you hear me? Spock? SPOCK?"_

"Spock?"

The man's unfamiliar voice was doubtful. Spock wondered vaguely where he was. _When _he was... The rest of his thoughts were lost as he fell back into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Dear Holmes,

Some might think it rather insane, dear chap, for me to write this letter to you. But what I have just seen - spent the last few hours _treating _in fact - has given me far more sufficient reason to begin to doubt my sanity.

Forgive me old friend. I am indulging in that most dreadful habit of mine, that of beginning a tale at the end. I shall endeavour to lay the facts before you quite simply and chronologically as they occurred. You may make of it what you will, although I have doubts that even your great brain could make sense of this Holmes.

It was nearing midnight and I was in my study, when I heard noises from the lower floor. As I am now the sole occupant of my Kensington abode this startled me somewhat. I went downstairs, wary of an intruder. There was another noise, a large crash which I soon realised came from the unused wine cellar. I could scarcely imagine what someone might want in there, and I also marvelled at any burglar so incompetent as to create such a cacophony.

It was not a burglar. It was- but you see this is the difficulty Holmes. It was a man, I think. I can picture you now old fellow, raising your eyebrows at me, but perhaps when I describe the "man" in question you will understand why I have reason for self doubt.

His name, so he said, was "Spock". Unusual I know, nothing I had ever heard before, and whether forename or surname I am unsure. After telling me this he collapsed, and I was soon able to see that he was injured. I turned the gaslights up higher in order to see the extent of his injuries and in doing so I saw that he was bleeding, badly. This in itself would have been worrying, yes, but not unusual, had it not been for the fact that the colour of his blood was not red, but a vivid _green._

You have criticised my romanticism of stories, but I assure you Holmes I am not exaggerating in this instance. I only wish you were still here to help me make sense of it all. To convince me I haven't gone quite mad. I miss you dreadfully Holmes. You see I have no one left to turn to with this. Mary is gone now and I confess I am wary of approaching your brother or the Yard, for fear this fellow - whatever he may be - shall be turned over to some government facility for examination. And for now, at least, he seems harmless.

His ears are pointed, his hair a sheer black, and cut in an angular way. His injuries were extensive, and no aspect of his anatomy is in line with that of a human. What, then, is he? No doubt you would be able to deduce it Holmes, or form at least twelve separate, possible theories, but I suspect that, as usual, I am focussing on the wrong details.

I must go, he seems to be stirring.

Watson


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

_Hello! _

_First of all __thank you all for reading this - it really means a lot to know people are enjoying what I write and reviews are greatly appreciated._

_Second - There are mentions of suicide in this chapter. Nothing graphic or explicit, but I felt I should warn you all._

_And third - I just wanted to say that I'm not at all sure about this chapter. There's a lot of mind-meld-ey switching perspective stuff going on, so it'd be great if you could drop a note saying whether you thought it worked or not. And I apologise for all the lines...  
_

_Thanks!_

_**~HLotD~**_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Spock wasn't sure how it happened. He had reached with his hands through reflex, unsure if the presence above him was friend or foe, eager to verify... He forgot how weakened his mental shielding was.

And suddenly, their minds were One.

* * *

"_Holmes!"_

_A broken bellow, sounding out over the deafening cacophony of the Falls, the Falls which had claimed his friend to their watery depths. Lost forever..._

* * *

"_We shall need a codeword, Captain," he said. They were on the Bridge, and though the sight was familiar to Spock, Doctor John Watson was awestruck._

Amazing... _the thought drifted across, a thought Spock knew was not his own. _Absolutely amazing...

"_A codeword?" McCoy was saying, skeptical as always, of the Vulcan's logic. "You expecting to run into trouble down there Spock?"_

"_Negative, Doctor," he responded, face carefully blank as befitted a Vulcan. That his cool mask served to enrage McCoy further was merely a fortunate side effect, of course... "I merely find it wise to be prepared for any eventuality."_

"_You know," Jim commented, regarding this exchange with a small smile, and laying the small, worn book aside with a smile. "There are times I think you two could pass for a married couple."_

* * *

_The wedding bells rang loud and Mary Morstan - Mary _Watson - _was radiant, her face alight with the joy of marriage. He leant in to kiss her and in that moment nothing else mattered._

* * *

"_What ya reading, anyway Jim?" McCoy drawled, choosing to ignore the Captain's latest remark. "Agatha Christie?"_

"_Doctor, we have not yet resolved the issue of the-"_

* * *

"_The issue of the body, Dr Watson. We can hardly have a burial with no body!"_

_Blinding anger, worsened by grief, had him screaming at the vicar in tones he had not reproduced since his days in the army._

_Less than a week later and a gravestone was laid into place, bearing the name of his dearest friend._

* * *

"_Sherlock Holmes," said Jim, then redirected his attention back to his First Officer. "Yes, the codeword, of course Mr Spock. Do you have any suggestions?"_

"_Sherlock Holmes, huh?" McCoy chuckled. "You know Jim, I think I could see Spock here as a detective..."_

_Jim joined in McCoy's laughter. "I see what you mean Bones. Did you ever read the stories, Mr Spock?"_

* * *

_He read his stories to her. She could do nothing for herself so he read all of the published cases, then moved on to the unpublished ones. Old journals he had thought he would never look at again. At her insistence that it was "too good not to share" he even sent the Baskerville case to the publishers. He would have done anything for her. But still her condition worsened._

* * *

"_So Mr Spock, when precisely will we use this codeword sequence?"_

"_Whenever we speak via communicator," he answered. "You will say the first word. I will return the second. You will then use the third and I will answer the fourth, to be sure. That way if I am captured by the F'lacha'tNel and they force me to employ the use of my communicator-"_

"_Force a Vulcan? Now that'll be the day..."_

"_Shh, Bones!" Jim smiled at him and grasped his shoulder - an act of physical contact __which, from any other, would be unwelcome. "Good luck Mr Spock. Get back safe and sound."_

"_I will endeavour to do so, Captain."_

* * *

_He had tried. Tried so hard. The trauma of childbirth, they said, coupled with her recent illness. It had been too much, not only for mother, but child too. It had been a boy. Henry Sherlock Watson. Named for each of his brothers._

* * *

"_Spock?"_

_The voice came from his communicator and he concentrated on it, used it to anchor himself to consciousness and to focus his thoughts. _

"_Spock are you still there?"_

_Still there? When had he been there before? Had he left?_

"_The- the sequence, Captain-"_

"_We've already done it Commander," Jim said, his tone gentle. __"What's happening, where are you?" _There was an underlying edge to Jim's voice. An emotion he couldn't quite grasp in his current state. 

Fear _supplied the part of his mind which was now Dr Watson's. _He was fearful for your well-being.

* * *

_Nothing left, but an empty home. He went to his study, to the writing desk. His old refuge. He laid a trembling hand on the drawer handle then pulled the revolver out, the smooth metal oddly comforting in his hand. _

_One bullet was all he needed._

* * *

"_Spock don't do it! Do you hear me? Spock? SPOCK?"_

_The device was already whirring into life and Spock needed to clear his mind. He couldn't. Scotty, McCoy, Uhura and, of course, Jim, all sounded loudly across his communicator. Unable to concentrate, to focus, his mind began playing the sequence codewords Jim and McCoy had co-created._

_**Violin.**_

* * *

_He raised the gun, his mind full of a haunting, melancholy tune Holmes had played on his very worst days. The sound rang in his ears, echoing like a waterfall... like the aftershock of a bullet..._

* * *

_**Mr Sherlock Holmes.**_

* * *

_I'm sorry Holmes. You would be disappointed, but try to understand old fellow. There's nothing left for me now._

* * *

_**Revolver.**_

* * *

_The same gun that had seen him through so many adventures would now end them. His finger tensed on the trigger. He thought of Holmes and of Mary, making sure they were his last thoughts._

* * *

_Thought was instrumental in the plotting of his course through time. It was a telepathic instrument for a telepathic race. That was why he was chosen for this mission. He was Vulcan._

_But his mental control was in tatters. And his final thought, the final word in their sequence-_

**Dr John H Watson.**

_The device whirred Spock away._

* * *

_And with a fright Watson dropped the gun, a noise from downstairs making him jump. He went to investigate, but the revolver remained on the floor._

* * *

Dr Watson - for now Spock realised that was who this must be - wrenched his face from Spock's hand, gasping and trembling. Spock wanted to apologise, to explain that he would never have done such a thing were his health not so compromised - but he was slipping away from consciousness again, his mind faltering.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

_*Whispers* Sorry for my sparse updates, real life is just very busy at the moment. Thanks for all of your reviews, I cannot even begin to explain how much they're appreciated!_

**~HLotD~**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Dear Holmes,

I must begin this letter to you with a confession. You see I lied previously. When I heard that noise from the basement I was not working in my study. I was- but you would already have deduced what I was doing, of course, were you here. You would have prevented me, but then of course I would never have considered such a course of action if you had been here at all. Nevertheless I have had the most singular experience. And I am not exaggerating Holmes, I do mean "most" - more singular, even than the Sumatra case, so you know I do not jest.

Mr Spock (I know for certain now that he told the truth about that) appeared to be coming around a little. As I bent over him to determine whether his eyes were open, he reached out for me and when he touched my face Holmes, I saw things from his mind. His soul, perhaps. It was an equal sharing between us, of our memories and experience and emotions, and I have seen such strange, singular things in his head my dear friend. In return he has seen many of my innermost emotions, things I thought never to show _anyone _- not even you and Mary. In the space of the joining of our minds - in the space of the _mind meld_, as I am now aware he refers to it - we learnt more of each other than I imagine we might have had we spent months, or even years, together.

I am, however, determined to help him. He is lost, Holmes, far away from his own home and there is a chance of danger still. As you would have once said - the game is afoot.

Watson


End file.
